


Hospitality

by Jathis



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Affection, Bathing/Washing, Foot Massage, Kissing, Other, Wing Grooming, Wing Oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jathis/pseuds/Jathis
Summary: The rules of what a host does for their guest changes over time





	Hospitality

“Don’t take another step into my home.”

Aziraphale blinked at the command, stopping in his tracks. He tilted his head a little as Craw...no, no she had changed it hadn’t she? Just as she had changed from he to she for this time period. 

Crowley. She said her name was Crowley now.

He looked at Crowley curiously as she approached, setting down a small stool and holding a bowl of water. “What..?”

“Sit,” Crowley commanded.

The angel sat and he blinked as the demon got down onto her knees. He finally realized what was happening when she started to remove his sandals. “Oh! Oh no, I’m perfectly capable of washing my own feet. You don’t have to go to any trouble for me, Crowley!”

“My home,” she said as she set his sandals aside, “my rules.” She looked up at him with her yellow eyes and she smiled as she placed one foot into the bowl before setting to work.

Aziraphale blushed as Crowley washed his feet. He had heard that the Son had used this as a show of humility among His followers but he doubted a demon could be thinking of such things. This was probably just because he didn’t want him to track dirt in his home. Surely there was no other meaning. 

He didn’t want to admit how nice it felt the way she ran her thumbs along the arches, massaging away any aches or pains that may have been there. She even massaged his ankles, gently rotating his feet. “Crowley…” Aziraphale whispered.

“Almost finished,” she assured him. She used a sweet smelling oil on the flesh, rubbing it in before using a towel to dry them off. “I’m not using my hair; that’s unsanitary,” she murmured. She stood up, clapping her hands together. “So! Let’s go have some food, shall we?” 

Aziraphale stood up with a nod, following her further into her home. “Thank you,” he said.

She waved a dismissive hand in the air, “you'll pay me back later,” she said.

***

Crowley sat on a small stool, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward a bit. He was shirtless, his wings out and spread. He looked over his shoulder and smiled as Aziraphale opened the crystal jar. “Thank you, angel. I always have a hard time doing it by myself.”

“Preening was meant to be done with someone else,” Aziraphale said with a nod. He set the jar aside and started to use his hands to go through Crowley’s feathers. He smoothed out the ones he could and gently plucked out any that needed to come out, placing them in a small pile for Crowley to go through later.

The demon cooed happily as he was preened. He did his best to keep still, fighting back the urge to puff his feathers up in pleasure. He didn’t want to make this harder for Aziraphale. “You’re always so good at this,” he said.

The angel just laughed as he spread wing oil onto a comb, “you always say that.” 

“Well it’s true!” Crowley made a moan that was so obscene Aziraphale nearly dropped his comb. “Don’t stop!”

“Honestly. You’d think I was doing something else to you!”

“We could try that later.”

“Oh?”

“After dinner.”

“Perhaps, if dinner is splendid,” Aziraphale added with a smile. He turned his attention back to his work, combing the oil through his feathers. He made sure that the oil was spread evenly, massaging it in when he needed to.

When he was finished he set the comb down and he hugged Crowley around the middle, forcing him to sit up. “All finished,” he said.

Crowley smiled and turned his head, kissing him as he placed a hand over Aziraphale’s. “Such wonderful hospitality,” he teased.

“At least I don’t have to dry them with my hair.”

“Somewhere forbid the very thought of that!” Crowley agreed.


End file.
